


I'm still wantin' you

by ketabat



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Good Friend Billy Hargrove, Hurt Steve Harrington, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Post-Break Up, Roommates, Soft Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, bowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24739516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ketabat/pseuds/ketabat
Summary: Steve grins, all teeth and laugh lines. “Yeah? So if you had to choose between me and Byers…”“You.”or, billy helps steve cope with his breakup.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler - Relationship
Comments: 11
Kudos: 274
Collections: harringrove for BLM





	I'm still wantin' you

**Author's Note:**

> i think this is my first time ever writing soft!billy and i hope it's not too ooc. prompt fill for tyra who requested "one-sided pining and soft billy hargrove"

“Stop eatin’ your heart out. You’re infiltrating the positive atmosphere I have here.”

Steve scoops out another spoonful of ice cream from his tub of Ben and Jerry’s. “You’d be a bit more _sympathetic_ if you knew the basics of human emotion,” he says, voice muffled with ice cream. He glares at his next spoonful. “Can you sue movie production companies for making B&J seem like a magical cure for breakups?”  
  
He doesn’t have to look at Billy to know he’s rolling his eyes at him from behind his laptop screen. “Chicks use breakups as an excuse to put on weight without feelin’ bad about it.”  
  
“Oh you’re not _just_ an asshole, but a sexist one too?” Steve says in faux awe. “What’s next? Your name’s _Chad?”_  
  
“Middle name actually.”  
  
“Your parents must be so proud you lived up to the name,” Steve chuckles. “Fucker.”  
  
Billy’s lips tip up at one corner, eyes glued to his screen. “Point is, stop being such a girl about this,” he says evenly, “Bitch was boring anyway.”  
  
“Hey!” Steve warns, pointing the spoon at Billy. “Don’t talk about her like that.”  
  
Billy rolls his eyes. “Don’t think she heard, too busy being dicked down by Byers,” it’s a jab at his wound. Steve scowls.  
  
He’s quiet for a second. Then he sits up and puts the tub of ice cream away. “Hey, uh. You think he’s better than me?”  
  
Billy doesn’t look up from his laptop, “In bed? Nah. Pretty sure he got erectile dysfunction. I was just fuckin’ with you.”  
  
The words stroke Steve’s ego _just so._ He shakes his head, shakes his smile off. “No. Like, in general.”  
  
Billy stops typing, his feet stop shaking to the rhythm of whatever hair metal crap he has on. Then he lifts a brow and looks up. “You doubting your appeal, Harrington?”  
  
Steve rebuts that accusation with a loud _NO!_ then, quieter, “No. Just wondering.”  
  
Billy’s eyes stay on him a moment longer than necessary before sliding back to the screen. “Well. In that case, you’re the lesser of two evils.”  
  
Steve grins, all teeth and laugh lines. “Yeah? So if you had to choose between me and Byers…”  
  
“You.”  
  
It leaves Billy’s lips as smoothly as vulgarities usually do. Makes Steve blink, eyebrows lifting in surprise. He waves a hand, licks his mouth like he doesn’t know what to say.  
  
Billy clears his throat. “Don’t be weird about it. I’d choose _Wheeler_ over Byers and I’m _gay.”_  
  
Steve nods. “Right,” he reclines, relaxes a little. “Can’t believe _Jonathan Byers_ of all people. _He’s_ the one to steal her away from me.”  
  
“Man. If I wanted to kill myself, I’d throw myself from Wheeler’s grades down to her standards.”  
  
Steve laughs, melodic and raucous. It quietens, melts to a smile, then to nothing. He listens to the tapping of the keyboard for a little while. He’s spent enough time listening to Billy type to know his habits. How he taps without pressing down on the keys when he’s thinking about the right coding formula. How he presses down on the _Enter_ twice in a row when he’s happy with the result. How he backspaces everything he’s typing when Steve’s talking because he’s too busy listening to what Steve has to say to pay attention to what he’s writing. “Thought she was the one, y’know?”  
  
Billy’s typing doesn’t lag. Steve turns his head to look at him from across the living room. “I’m listenin’,” Billy murmurs, eyes still stuck to his screen. The blue of it makes his eyes even bluer. “Let it all out, doll.”  
  
Steve’s jaw clenches. “I just,” he shrugs, starts fidgeting with his sleeve. “ _Thought_. Don’t know where it all went down. Like, I tried my best. Guess that wasn’t good enough.”  
  
Billy stops typing. He breathes a nasal sigh and shuts his laptop, patting the lid twice. “She fucked up,” he states blandly. “Listen, deep talk isn’t my thing, but relationships are a two-way street. You hear me?”  
  
Steve presses his lips together and nods once. “You’re not half bad when your tongue isn’t hanging out like a dog’s, Hargrove.”  
  
Billy smirks, then runs his tongue over his upper teeth lewdly. “You should see how good I can get when it _is.”_   
  
Steve’s eyes roll. Fond if anything. He watches Billy tuck his laptop into his bag and shove his feet into his boots before getting up and pointing his car-key at Steve. “I’ll get takeout. If you haven’t done the laundry by the time I’m back, you’re dead.”  
  
Steve doesn’t do the laundry. He doesn’t even try to look like he budged from the sofa since Billy left. But Billy’s appreciably less harsh about it. He pulls the flannel duvet off Steve’s body and glowers down at him. “You still sulking?”  
  
Steve rolls away as far as the couch allows him. Billy sighs, sitting down on the armrest. “Love’s for old people.”  
  
“Shut up,” Steve’s voice is muffled into a cushion. “My parents are childhood sweethearts.”  
  
Billy laughs, toeing his shoes off. “Steve. Your dad’s a cheat. What’s your point?”   
  
Steve doesn’t reply, too prideful to admit Billy’s got a point.   
  
“C’mon, I’m sure your icky Shakespearean fantasy’s just around the corner,” Billy peels a sock off and throws it at Steve, making him jump up into a sitting position, face twisting with disgust as he brushes the sock off him. “Just a matter of time before you find the right girl and tip the velvet under the stars, strum her nonstop or whatever.”  
  
Steve exhales from his nose, shrugging a shoulder. “I guess.”  
  
Billy lifts a hand and tousles his hair, snickering when a strand snags on his ring and makes Steve hiss. “Done being miserable?”  
  
Steve shrugs again.   
  
“ _Jee_ sus, you’re worse than Robin,” Billy rolls his eyes, fingers rubbing at Steve’s nape. “She dealt with it better than you did. Started checkin’ shit off her bucket list,” there’s a contemplative pause before Billy goes on, “You got a bucket list?”  
  
“Everyone’s got a bucket list,” Steve fidgets with the corner of the duvet.   
  
“Ok,” Billy murmurs noncommittally, “Let’s check something off.”  
  
“Yeah, let’s break into ikea at eleven pm and sleep on one of the beds,” Steve mutters under his breath.   
  
Billy cackles with laughter. “Dream small, Harrington?” he says playfully.  
  
Steve tuts his tongue and leans away from Billy’s touch, grousing under his breath. “You probably don’t even _have_ a bucket list.”  
  
“Oh, I _do,”_ Billy sings. “I wanna have sex to The X-Files’ theme song.”  
  
That makes Steve laugh, pushing his shoulder into Billy’s thigh. “I hate you.”  
  
“C’mon, there’s gotta be _something_ you’ve always wanted to do but never got the chance to,” Billy says, serious again. “Gimme something.”  
  
Steve hums on a sigh, lips puckering thoughtfully. Then, “Bowling.”  
  
Billy’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline. “ _Bowling?”_ he echoes, incredulous. “You’ve never been _bowling?”_  
  
“Nope,” Steve pops the P. “Dad used to say it’s for _punks._ Made me play golf like, every day.”  
  
Billy hisses, faking sympathy. “Ok. Get up, I’m takin’ you bowling.”

…

Steve _sucks_ at bowling. He’s a dead loss. Billy would laugh if he didn’t look so _pitiful._ The bowling alley is mostly empty save for the workers and two people holding their bowling balls but fully enthralled in conversation.   
  
“I give up,” Steve relents, plopping down in the seat opposite Billy’s. “You’re up, champ.”  
  
Billy takes a swig of his Pepsi and licks his mouth. “Take my turn.”  
  
Steve lifts a brow. “Billy Hargrove? Turning down a chance to show off?” he teases. “Never thought I’d see the day.”  
  
Billy smiles, circling the rim of his can with his forefinger. He lifts his eyes, a muscle in his jaw ticking when he ends up locking gazes with Steve. “Feel better?”  
  
Steve’s lips twitch on an attempt to smile. He fails. Looks away.  
  
“Hey,” Billy reaches over to flick Steve on the back of his hand and get him to look at him. “I know it’s hard.”  
  
Steve seems taken aback by the statement. He blinks owlishly, opens his mouth to _ask._ Because Billy always says shit flippantly, whether it’s good advice or casual comments or lame jokes. He has this _tone._ And Steve, through their two years of friendship, never pondered the prospect that maybe Billy smothers the weight of what he says with that tone.   
  
“Trust me,” Billy says. “I _know._ I know it feels like, _fuck,_ like you’ll never feel that way about anyone again. But it gets easier,” he pauses, ducks his head to catch Steve’s eye. “You with me?”  
  
“Yeah,” Steve’s voice’s a throaty whisper. He clears his throat, nods once.  
  
“Good,” Billy flicks his hand again, fixes on a smirk. “Now get back there and imagine the pins are a bunch of Jonathan Byers.”  
  
Steve guffaws at that, his laugh echoing off the walls, making Billy fall in love with him _that_ much more. “Oh, you’re on,” Steve gets up with renewed confidence, stretches his limbs, and slips his fingers through the ball’s holes.   
  
Billy has to stifle his laugh when the ball goes in the gutter. Steve flips him off without looking.  
  
He keeps trying. Billy gives him pointers. Wants to stand behind him and take his hand and guide him through despite his left-handedness. He doesn’t.  
  
When Steve _finally_ knocks _two_ pins over, it’s past midnight. The two people who were huddled up in the corner are long gone, and the 4 workers turned to 1, whiling away on the phone.   
  
Steve turns around and pumps the air with an exclaimed _YES! I DID IT!_  
  
And he’s looking at Billy, grin matching the mirthful twinkle of his eyes.  
  
Billy gives him a reverent two-finger salute. Thinks that maybe it _will_ get easier. One day.

**Author's Note:**

> im on [tumblr.](https://inkedplume.tumblr.com)


End file.
